Pessimist From Ten
by MockingJayOdesta
Summary: 74th Annual Hunger Games from District Ten male's point of view.


I woke with a startle- feeling this was the day I would die. I was a pessimist eighteen year old boy from district ten. I had nothing going for me. I permitted my tired fingers to rummage through my green rucksack and retrieved the flask of murky water, taking a quick sip. Suddenly I heard a twig snap. My head whipped round and I hurriedly bundled my findings and stolen goods into the burned bag, getting to my feet at once.

"Get up." The boy shouted but I was already up. I shook as I fumbled for the sickle that was strapped to the Velcro on my trousers. "I SAID GET UP!" He screamed. I looked from the edge of the tree I was behind and saw the tall, light haired career boy threatening a scared ginger girl, with a machete- the exact one I wanted from the cornucopia. My whole body shook with anger as the boy my age got closer to the fox-faced girl, and she began to cry. I'd had enough. I felt the rage boiling inside of me so I grabbed my sickle and charged towards the boy. "What the hell?!" He shouted as I slashed across his shoulder. "You're going to pay for that!" The boy from two promised

"Go!" I commanded to the ginger girl and she did so, fleeing with her drawstring bag. My grip on the sickle tightened and I stood precariously in front of the towering Cato, shivering.

"How rude of you. That's my good arm." He remarked then swung with his machete at my face, slicing my left cheek wide open. My weak leg began to give way as he continued to slash at me and I dropped to the ground. The searing pain was enough to kill but obviously the adrenaline got me there. Cato hit me again and again until I was a shrivelling mess, curled up in a pool of my own blood. The career spat at me then began to make his way back to the cornucopia. I held onto my cut legs and cried as the strength began to slowly drain from me, as well as the blood. What did I ever do to deserve this kind of pain? Eventually my sight clouded over and my mouth filled with hot blood, dribbling down the side of my sliced face. I was gone. The last thing I heard was my cannon.

Suddenly I could see lightness. My vision cleared and I realised I was lying in a white bed, attached to a drip with a heart monitor beeping away. I looked around until my eyes met with the fox-faced girl's. She too was lying in a bed with a drip and a heart monitor. My index finger urgently pressed the little red emergency button on the side of the bed. I was supposed to be dead. A skinny faced, grey haired nurse ran to my aid, armed with a syringe and a bottle of water.

"Wh... what ... Hap... Happen... happened?" I stammered, my mouth incredibly dry.

"You had an accident. But you're okay now and President Snow will be here any minuet. Do you want to get washed and dressed?" She offered. I nodded and the nurse assisted me into a wheel chair then pushed me into the little bathroom and closed the door for me. "Just call when you're done." She shouted from behind the door. I looked around the grey room and saw a pile of simple clothes: a white shirt and grey trousers, complete with black shoes. I took my hospital gown off and observed the grotesque scars across my face and body. The bad ones were sewn up-the worst had 46 stitches. I pulled the clothes over myself after washing myself with a damp cloth and combed my black hair that resembled a bird's nest. I sighed.

"Done." I banged on the door with my least scarred arm but pain still seared through it, temporarily paralysing me.

"President Snow will be telling you both some important news, so please listen carefully when he speaks." The nurse woodenly stated as she pushed my wheelchair and the fox-faced girl, I now knew as Finch, walked along beside us. Finch's lips were purple and her skin was a strange drained colour- like she was dead. Her speech was slurred and sometimes she zoned out, but she was still smart. We arrived in a hall with some other kids already resting on chairs or leaning on walls.

"Howdy!" A pretty girl with long brown hair greeted me. She looked weirdly familiar and I just had to ask.

"Sorry, have we met before?" I scratched my jaw, trying to ignore the horrific pain I felt when I moved.

"I was your district partner. District ten?" The now recognisable girl, I knew as Eve, smiled. Both of her eyes used to be a shimmering hazel, whereas the right one has been swapped with an emerald replacement. I looked around the room and realised each child was a tribute except both from twelve. Everyone had some form of deformation upon them and was chatting to their allies.

"Welcome, ex-tributes. I suppose you will all have mixed emotions about being here, so let me clear this up." President Snow began as he sauntered into the room. "You all died. I saw the potential in each and every one of you and decided to not let such talent go to waste." Cato whooped. "So. When you have all finished rehabilitation, you will begin to train to be put in my elite Capitol army." The president finished but only Cato, His district partner, Marvel from one and the boy from four clapped and cheered. "Thank you for staying with us." As if we had a choice. So we had been thrown to kill each other then thrown to kill others. Fabulous.

"Hey." Finch whispered down to me. She took the hand break off my wheel chair and wheeled me back and forth. "Do you want to go to war?" The red head questioned.

"Not particularly, but what choice do we have?" I sighed.

"Yeah. Suppose..." Her words lingered. I glanced over to Eve who shot me a glare of hate. "By the way, I never got your name?"

"Angus." I outstretched my inflamed arm and patted her back.


End file.
